The Art of Life
by Miki-Spazz
Summary: When Kaia, a young mutant, runs away from home to the big city, problems happen. A lot of obstacles are in her way to get to Xavier's School. Fighting quite literally for her life, will she actually make it to school and find her brother?
1. Chapter 1

Oops, I've been seeing everyone else do this, so **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! Except Doodle. Doodle is my baby. =3

* * *

Kaia never did like water.

She stared at the rushing river sourly. The closest bridge was at least ten miles up the road, and this was the narrowest part of the river. It was supposedly only ten feet across and about a foot deep, but from where she was standing she had a better chance of jumping across the Grand Canyon than trying to cross this chasm of rushing water.

Looking back, she could just make out the black of the lone highway that cut through the forest. She didn't want to run away, but she had no choice. Remembering when they threw her brother out, she shuddered and turned back to the river. Crossing could mean drowning, and using the bridge could mean getting caught.

After what she had done at school, she seriously considered drowning the better option.

Taking a deep breath, she dipped one foot into the water, and then the other. She could feel the tug of the current around her knees, but it wasn't going to sweep her away. One step at a time, she managed her way across the river. Her pants were soaked, but she was safe. For now, at least.

Checking her bag of supplies, she adjusted the strap on her shoulder and trudged off into the trees. She had a good sense of direction, not to mention a map and a compass socked away in her bag. Pulling out a granola bar, she nibbled on it as she stepped over a log, and found herself on worn hiking path. Following it, she soon wound up at a camp ground.

Glancing furtively around, she peeked in one or two tents, and grabbed a few more survival supplies that hadn't been available in her home. Sneaking out of the camp as quietly as she had entered, she was soon in the middle of the forest.

She kept this up for a few days, passing through towns and farms, eventually winding up in New York. She had read books, but they couldn't convey anything about the sheer size of everything. Gawking like the tourist she was, it was no wonder that she was soon targeted by any conman within five feet of her. One tried getting her to buy passes to something, but looking at the ink, she smirked and shook her head.

Ignoring most of them, one of them caught her attention, or rather, his eyes caught her attention. The pupils were slits, hidden behind sunglasses, and she could've sworn his tongue slithered behind his lips. Nearing him, he slipped into the alley, and she foolishly followed. Though she could've sworn he wanted her to follow, since there was a door, and he knocked the password. Loudly.

Timidly, she stepped up, and repeated the knock. A slat snapped open, startling her, revealing the same slits for eyes she had seen earlier. "Heh, so you followed me. Well, come on in." The door swung in, and he offered her a hand. "Welcome. Psycha told me she thought you'd like it."

Glancing around, Kaia instantly knew she would.

There was someone who appeared to have claws, and a tail peeking out from under her dress. Another seemed to be levitating a glass that he occasionally sipped from. It was like the most posh club on New York streets, but exclusive to mutants. There was even a giant square which she assumed was for dancing.

Until the guy who let her in grabbed her by the shoulders.

Shoving her into the square, he slipped her bag off before she even realized what was happening. There was someone else in the square with her, on the opposite, who leered at her, laughing with all his buddies. Whirling around, Kaia tried to run, but was held back by something. Apparently there was some mutant projecting a force field around the square, which she realized with startling clarity was actually a fight ring.

A shadow loomed over her, causing her to quiver with fear. "Hey kid, what's yer name?" a guy on the outside asked, and held up a hand. Ink from the tattoo on her back slithered under skin to form words on her hand. 'Doodle,' it said, and quickly changed into, 'Get me out of here!'. The guy shook his head, and began bellowing to the crowd, without a microphone, "In one corner, tonight's favorite, 'The Bludgeon'! And in the other, a new comer who's power is unknown, 'Doodle'! Place any bets now, as this fight is going to start in a moment's notice!"

Kaia, or rather, 'Doodle', paled as she turned to face her opponent. He was huge, hulking over her; or maybe that was just because she was so small. Either way, she felt utterly powerless to do anything. Then something clicked. Powerless? Hell, she was a mutant, she could get out of this. Spotting the guy who had her bag, she motioned to him. He smirked at her, and sidled over. 'MARKER' her palm seemed to scream at him. "No can do, little lady. No weapons allowed."

Gritting her teeth, Doodle tried to concentrate, and think of what she could do. That's when her eardrums felt like they exploded as the announcer shouted, "Bets are in, let's begin!" The room swam in a nauseating motion, until her balance steadied. That's when she saw the fist heading right for her. Then her entire head exploded.

Leaning against the wall, she tried to get her bearings, just enough to dodge the next blow. Now she knew why they called that guy The Bludgeon. Trying to think of an idea, she was forced to roll to the side, crouched and ready to strike. All those years of scuffling in the school yard were certainly paying off right now. That's when she saw the drawings she had all over her jeans.

Her aimless school doodling was about to save her life.

Placing her hands over the drawings, she concentrated, pulling the pigments out of her jeans. The ink shimmered, before she clenched her fist, and it solidified into a sleek looking multicolored blade. She rose from her crouch, and held it at the ready in front of her. The Bludgeon sneered at her, and his gravelly voice reverberated throughout the square, "I'm gonna crush you, and use that toothpick to clean my teeth."

She merely gripped it harder, and charged. Sliding under one of his fists, she slashed at his shoulder. It wasn't deep, but she must've knicked a tendon, because his arm seemed to go slack. He bellowed an animalistic roar, and swung around, catching her in her gut. Knocked into the force field wall, she slid down, gasping for breath. The ink writhed in her hand; it dripped off her fingertips into needles.

She was unable to defend her position, that much she knew. So she was forced to attack. Swinging her arm in a furious motion, the needles flung off in his general direction. She didn't have to worry too much about aim, since the needles were still attached to her fingers by thin tendrils, allowing her to control their direction. His enormous size made him clumsy; he was unable to dodge all of them, or even most of them.

They didn't hit anything vital, but it certainly slowed him. Staggering her way to her feet, she curled her fingers, not quite a fist. He gritted his teeth, howling in pain. The ink she had pierced him with was curling and barbing. She wasn't normally cruel, but this guy had been pummeling her; it was only fair.

He tried taking a step towards her, and clenched her fist. Hissing, he took another step. Doodle glowered at him, giving a silent snarl. And then she yanked her fist back. The barbed hooks were ripped from his skin. They weren't fatal, but he was certainly gushing a whole lot of blood.

After a moment, he paled, and collapsed to the ground with a thundering crash

Her eyelids fluttered, as her body finally realized the pounding she had received. She leaned back, expecting to have the wall, but it had been put down. Fortunately someone caught, but she shuddered when she realized it was the guy who had shoved her in the square in the first place. "I knew you'd do great, well, Psycha did at least." The announcer guy came over, and handed her captor a wad of bills. "Here's your winnings, better keep a handle on this one, she's a keeper."

Doodle didn't listen to any more, mostly because she slumped into unconsciousness.

* * *

In case you didn't quite understand Doodle's power, she controls pigments, like inks and such. However, they have to be attached to her in some way, or else they just collapse into a puddle of ink. So, uh, yeah. More on this later. Oh, and she can't talk. Thus the tattoo she uses to talk. Stay tuned! =D


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2! I'm on a roll, yeah baby! Anyways, DISCLAIMER: I am not worthy of owning something as cool as X-Men, so yeah. Also, I thought this might have turned out a bit ramble-y, so a thousand apologies. Reviews, preese! =3

* * *

It's bright.

That was Kaia's first thought when she woke up. The next was she hurt all over. Like, she _really_ hurt. Cracking open her eyes, she was startled to see someone standing over her. Her mouth gaped, as though she was trying to yell, but in her panic she forgot she couldn't speak. So she tried the next best thing: she tried to fling her arm up and punch the figure.

She also forgot she had gotten beaten to a pulp.

Her arm completely refused to cooperate. So she simply laid there, and the figure stooped down. She could tell whoever it was, they were grinning. And then a tongue slithered out from behind the teeth. Apparently, it was that snake guy again, and she so wanted to be able to get up. She'd wipe that smug grin off his face.

"Lookssss like you're finally awake. How did you like your firsssst day on the job?" he hissed, before standing up as someone else came in the room. "Oh cut the crap Slick. You know when you talk like that it gives me a headache." He stuck his tongue out before sucking it back in and leering, "Yeah, whatever, Psycha. It sets the mood."

Doodle simply sat there, trying to see these different people. The woman came over, and checked over any wounds she might have had. Doodle sucked in a sharp breath when Psycha touched something sensitive. "Okay, she's looking like she's already on the mend. I'd say she might have regenerative abilities, but it's probably more just because she's still young."

Slick harrumphed and sat down in a chair next to the bed. "How old are you, exactly?" he asked Doodle. She opened her mouth, but no sounds came out. "Can't speak, eh? Well, that makes it a tad bit more complicated. But we can fix that. Psycha, care to lend a hand?" She glanced over, before her eyes narrowed. Slick winced, and then shook his head as if to clear it. "That wasn't very nice, I hope you know."

Turning back to Doodle, he was surprised to find her weakly lifting her less injured arm. Her tattoo swirled like it had before, and he smacked his forehead. "Oh yeah! I fergot you can do that. So you're. . .17? Huh, shouldn't you be at home?" He said this with such a knowing grin that Doodle just scowled at him.

"So, how'd you like the club?"

Doodle wasn't sure how to express this with words, so she simply stuck her tongue out. "Aw, don't feel that way. I'm sure it was just cuz it was your first time. You'll learn how to fight better, and you'll love it here." Doodle gave him a disbelieving look. "No really. You even get a cut of the bets. I think you'd do great."

She arched an eyebrow when he mentioned money. 'How much of a cut?' the ink scrawled. "Enough," he laughed, and pointed to her bag that was hanging on one of the posts. "And don't act like you don't need the money. Running away from home is an expensive ordeal, and what you have won't last you too long."

Doodle rolled her eyes, and Psycha came over from wherever she had gone. "Ooh, Slick, you do not want me to translate what she's calling you right now. But, I do think I know how to keep her on. How about, in good faith, you can keep all your winnings from your debut fight, and you promise to do at least five more?" Doodle looked over at her suspiciously, and then began ranting thoughts off.

Psycha held up a finger, and closed her eyes. "Okay, okay, slow down first. And quiet down, you don't have to shout. Sheesh. Anyways, no, it will be different mutants most of the time. And no, you won't have to fight every night. We'll help you any way we can; we do have a stake in you, anyways. Hey hey hey, don't take that attitude with me. It was all Slick's idea; I'm just his accountant."

After a moment, Doodle mulled it all over and just had one more question. "If you'd like, we can teach you how to fight. Unfortunately, we can't help with your powers, we don't really know how to make those better except with practice. But you looked fine last night." And then she turned to Slick, talking about probabilities and the high rollers that frequent the club.

Doodle decided she'd go back to bed.

* * *

It was a few days before she could walk again. Slick had a friend stop by, who could help heal up some of her more serious injuries, like her cracked ribs. It wasn't long before she was able to move more freely, and that's when Slick started coaching her. She had been wary of him at first; after all, the guy had just shoved her into a fight ring without any warning. But he explained himself.

Supposedly there was a mob boss who had a psychic in his employ. He also ran the club, and came up with the mutant fights. Well, he had his psychic keep a lookout for new mutants; whenever one was spotted, they were lured to the club, and were added to his collection if they were worth it.

If not, they wouldn't last long in the ring.

Psycha apparently also did this for Slick, sometimes even messing with the mobster's psychic. That's how they had gotten a hold of Doodle before he had. If they hadn't put her in the ring, she would've been free game to anyone who wanted to put a claim on her. And her power was one of the more unique ones, so she would've been a prime target for the boss.

She really should've thanked him, but after a practice fight with him, all she could think of telling him was where he could stick his slippery tongue. Psycha was a bit more practical. She taught more styles and moves, rather than just flat out fighting her. After a week, Doodle felt good enough to fight again. Fights were at night, so Psycha spent the day with her discussing possible opponents.

There was a psychic, but he wasn't good at physical. There was one who could produce crystals, but they were more defensive than offensive. And then there was pyro, almost completely offensive, no defense whatsoever. Finally there was speedster, she'd have to watch out if she was matched up against him.

"Oh, and last but not least, you can't take any weapons in with you. Whatever you need to fight, you'd better prepare it before you go in the ring. Now get some rest. Slick will get you before we have to leave so you can get ready." And with that Psycha left Doodle alone in her room. She was allowed to wander the apartment, but she preferred to stay in her room. Reaching for her backpack, she pulled out her wallet, and grinned at the wad that was stuffed in it. They had given her the money from the other day, and she had never held so much in her life. When your odds are long shots, you make a lot of money beating them.

Then she tugged out the old photo from its sleeve.

This was the real reason she was on the run. Rubbing the face in the picture like she always did, she couldn't but think about that one fateful day. Living up north was always enjoyable. The seasons were gorgeous, from the lush summers to the icy winters. Living in Maine, she had access to lots of little ponds around. One morning, she remembered, she left early wanting to find a pond to have all to herself. She was a good ice skater, for her age. She didn't think she would need help.

Then she found her pond. It was a ways off the road, hidden behind a small knot of trees. Her cheeks were already cherry red from the cold. It was so small, she assumed it was solid ice by now. But when she got near the middle of the pond, it shattered. It was deeper than she had anticipated. She couldn't touch the bottom, and her ice skates were weighing her down. Clinging to the edge of the ice, she did the only thing she could think of: she screamed.

Her waterproof jacket kept most of the icy water out, but it was still cold. She didn't know how long she was there, but her voice was hoarse, and she had ripped her gloves off to throw for attention. Her fingertips were blue. She was barely able to stay above the water; the cold water she was swallowing was hurting her throat and making it hard to think. Her grip on the ice slipped, and she began to sink into the pond.

But someone grabbed her arm.

Dragged to shore spluttering, she got a look at her savior. It was her older brother Mikhail. He ripped off his jacket and bundled her up, running her to the hospital. Later the doctors said if he hadn't found her and gotten her there so quickly, she would've been dead for sure. Unfortunately, between the cold water and her yelling, her vocal cords were destroyed. She didn't leave for weeks. And neither did he.

He was the first who had found out about her mutant powers. They must have developed following the accident. He helped her hide them, and watched over her, protecting her from bullies. Then he found out he was a mutant too. She didn't remember exactly what his power was, or how it worked, but she knew one thing: her parents were terrified of him.

He ran away, and they moved instantly.

She began to struggle with school, she started getting in fights. That's how her powers got so good. Practice makes perfect, her parents always told her. So she did. She had been planning on running away ever since she got that letter from her brother. She didn't know how he had found her, but she did have somewhere as her destination in mind finally. And here she was now.

Slick poked his head in through the door, and tossed her a pair of wristbands. "Figured you'd like more surface area for ink, and these mark you as part of my group. Keeps you safe from talent seekers. Anyways, get ready, we're leaving in about twenty minutes, meet us downstairs."

Nodding, Doodle shoved the picture of her brother back in her wallet, tossing it back into her bag. Then she slipped the wristbands on, and grabbed a handful of markers. Popping the caps off, she drained them one by one of their contents, soaking them into her jacket and pants and the wrist bands.

She was ready for anything now.


	3. Chapter 3

So, here's chapter 3. Sadly, I'm giving this one way more attention than my LOTR one, so this might not update for a few days. Sorry for the wait. I promise I'll make it a good chapter to make it up to you guys. Reviews please, a thousand thanks and digi-cookies for anyone who does.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! =3

* * *

Well, this isn't good, Doodle thought.

Psycha rolled her eyes at this sentiment, and no doubt Slick would've voiced it, if it wasn't for the fact that he was gagged like the rest of them. It tasted horrible in Doodle's mouth, and she would've gladly pointed out that she was mute, but they were all shoved roughly into the dark cavern of a van.

'Psycha, do something!'

'I'm trying,' she thought back furiously. 'Why don't you?'

Doodle was about to reply very angrily that she was, except something seemed to shatter in Psycha, and tendrils of it washed over Doodle. Wincing, she nudged her with her foot. 'Psycha?' she asked nervously. Whatever drops of ink she had left were frantically fraying the ropes binding her arms behind her back.

Until a foreign mind touched hers.

'What's this?' it crooned, chilling her to the bone. 'Still have ink? Well, I suppose I'll have to deal with you too.' And then her head exploded with a pain a million times more intense than what she had felt before with Psycha.

_Earlier_

"Kay, Doodle, you got this in the bag. And don't look so afraid. On second thought, look small and scared. Might drive up your odds."

"Oh shut up Slick. Everyone saw her fight last time. Doodle, don't listen to him, he's an idiot. That's why he keeps me around."

"Oh, put a sock in it, will ya?"

Doodle rolled her eyes, and proceeded to ignore the both of them. She took this opportunity to really look around, seeing as last time she had been slightly busy. She was surprised by how many normal people were mixed in the crowd, but she figured if they got money, they're probably welcome. Or they just enjoyed the fights. She also saw that there were view boxes set on the second floor, right above the ring.

Spying Bludgeon in a corner, nursing a drink and an injured arm in a sling, she quickly slipped past and mingled into the crowd. She could feel eyes following her, and more than once she saw someone approach. She would instantly hold up her wrist and show the band to keep them away. The less people she interacted with, the better.

Unable to actually order anything at the bar, she settled in at a table in a secluded corner, and roved over the crowd, trying to take everything in. Pulling a spare marker from her pocket, she began scribbling on the napkins that were at the table.

She had a stack by the time Slick had sniffed her out. "Hey, Doodle. Your match is in about 10 minutes, if ya have any last minute preparations. I still have no idea who yer opponent is, in fact no one does, so it might be a newbie. Psycha an' me will be in the box above, we can jump in at any time."

Doodle nodded, and handed him her bag, which she stuffed the napkins into. 'Hold onto this, please?' the ink on her palm swirled. "Okay. Watch yerself, yer a good kid, and some of these guys are cut throat." 'I'll be fine,' her palm read, and she grinned.

'This ain't a game, pull out now, while you still can.'

The smile dropped from her face as these words echoed in her head. The voice sounded cold and menacing, and she glanced around the club, trying to find the source. But how do you track a psychic?

Shaking it from her mind, she wandered over to the ring, waiting for the current match to be over. It was the crystal guy and the psychic. That left either the pyro or speedster as her opponent. She knew how to deal with either of them, so she was pretty sure about her fight.

The match was over fairly quickly, so she stepped up once the floor was cleaned. The announcer recognized her, and began his bellowing.

"In this corner we have Doodle, unexpected champion of her debut, packs one heck of a punch. Watch your wallets; looks can be deceiving. And in the other corner, a surprise competitor, rarely seen but always welcomed to the ring, Psychosis."

He sauntered in, grinning from ear to ear like a hyena. She glanced up at the box, but didn't see Slick or Psycha in the box. A little shaken, she tried to quell her nerves. 'Just another psychic, just another psychic,' she thought to herself, but paled when he shook his head.

'I'm not just any psychic.'

Doodle tried shutting her mind down, like Psycha had been teaching her, but he kept worming his way in. 'Dammit, keep to yourself, bastard.' He merely grinned wider at her angry thoughts.

"BEGIN!"

She jumped at the sudden announcement, but quickly regained her concentration. Starting with her wristbands, she pulled streams of ink out, letting it elongate from her hands into sharp blades. Psychosis merely watched her, like a cat flicking its tail in wait.

Deciding to start the fight, she flung the ink from her left hand towards him, splitting it into multiple needles. However, they all stopped in midair a foot in front of him. Gritting her teeth, she pushed the ink as hard as she could.

But the needles wouldn't give, and eventually began flattening as though against a wall. Pulling it back, she figured she'd bring it to him. Psychics relied more on their powers, so they were weak in physical aspects. Or so she hoped.

Bolting across the ring, it didn't take her long to reach him. The ink was still in a solid blade on her right hand, and she swung it as hard as she could. Faking to his right, she leaped to the left; but of course he knew what she was going to do. She was held in midair, struggling to finish the swing or even land.

That's when he began bending her arm to try and get her to stab herself. 'Oh hell no!' she thought angrily, and soaked the ink back into her wristband. 'Stick that in your juice box and suck it, Psycho.'

She knew he could hear her, but he didn't acknowledge it. He just kept smiling, as though this were a nice tea social on a sunny day. He set her down, and she eyed him warily. Then he winked, and she was flung into the force field wall behind her. She thought she heard her head crack, and it certainly felt like it had.

Pulling herself up, she staggered like a drunk. Her vision was blurry, and she could only focus on him. Without warning she sent a blade of ink flying, and he barely dodged it in time. She gave a ragged grin, and kept attacking. By not thinking about what she was doing, he couldn't avoid her.

Now she had ruffled his feathers. Narrowing his eyes, he stood right in front of one of the walls, and kept sliding to the side to avoid her attacks. He tried getting close, and was steadily making his way towards her. She attempted to keep him away, but in a moment he was mere feet from her. Her fingers were working madly, trying to keep up with him.

He simply smirked, and slid his hand through the tendrils. Cutting her contact off from it, the ink splashed down and he grabbed her by the throat. Between the lump on her head and the restricted supply of oxygen, she couldn't think straight. Trying to pull her ink out of her clothes, it wouldn't get very far. It started just dripping from her hands, as she started to black out.

She remembered the pond.

Getting angry, she pulled the last bit of her strength together to control the tiniest drop of ink she had left. She slashed her arm up, and sliced his cheek. Snarling, he tightened his grip and slammed her into the wall again.

Letting her go, she slid down, barely conscious of what was going on. "WINNER!" the announcer shouted, but it sounded murky to Doodle. Psychosis bent down over her, his usual grin back. "That was fun. We should do it again sometime."

Then he picked her up, and hoisted her over his shoulder. She was dimly aware that she was being carried, before he ducked into a darkened room. She was deposited to a chair, and felt someone tying the rag around her head to gag her.

'Hey, I don't . . .I don't need . . .one,' she thought groggily.

Her arms were roughly pulled behind her back, and quickly bound. She couldn't see who it was, but she figured it was Psychosis. Her head kept nodding, as she was dangerously close to blacking out.

"Hey, go heal her up. I don't like damaged goods, ya know."

Someone with a deep and heavy New York accent was talking. Doodle pulled her head up, but couldn't see who it was because she was in the only puddle of light. Then Psychosis stepped in from the dark .

"Sir, she's still armed. On her jacket and pants. Not to mentions to the wristbands."

An impatient noise came from somewhere in the dark, before rumbling, "Fine, remove all her ink stores and _then_ heal her." Doodle took two things from this conversation: they were taking off her ink, and they were taking off her pants.

Whoever approached her, she kicked furiously. She was pretty sure she even broke someone's nose. Sighing, Psychosis came over, and grabbed her shoulders. Her mind blanked for a moment, unable to move anything. Her pants and jacket were promptly stripped. So were the wrist bands.

Someone touched her head from behind, and instantly her head began feel better. It wasn't pounding anymore, and soon the stinging dulled. Able to think slightly better and more clearly, she looked around, and was surprised to see Slick in a chair next to her. He appeared unconscious at the moment, and she couldn't see any sign of Psycha.

But she was brought in too. Psychosis had her by her hair, and her face was contorted with rage and concentration. Doodle guessed they must have been having a mental war. Psycha lost. She joined Doodle and Slick in a chair, Psychosis lingering behind her, probably keeping her subdued.

"Kay boss, they're safe."

A large man in an expensive suit stepped into the light, a halo of smoke surrounding him from the cigar he was chomping on. "Well, well, you certainly have been giving us a run for our money. You know how much money you lost me, eh? I had almost a hundred grand on Bludgeon, and you go and rip him some new ones." He stuck a finger under Doodle's chin and jerked her head up, staring at her face. "So young. And so pretty. You don't come across many pretty mutants. A lot of them have weird shit growing off of them, like fur or rocks."

Doodle yanked her head out of his hand, and looked over at Psycha. She seemed zoned out, like she wasn't quite all there and functioning. "I want to talk to her, this Doodle girl. Remove her gag." Psychosis glanced over at her, and shook his head. "No point sir, she's a mute." The boss guy seemed to find this amusing. "Young, pretty, and doesn't talk back. And a good fighter to boot. You're a real femme fatale, aren't you, little girl?"

Doodle glared at him, and just as she was about to think some nasty things for Psychosis to tell him, Slick made a groaning noise that was muffled by the gag. "Ah, Slick, Slick, Slick. You used to be a great underling. But you got cocky didn't you? Not so slick now, are you?" By now Slick was able to at least hold his head up and look at the boss.

"You see, Slick, I caught onto you and your little game. Psycha here, yeah, she's good with the mind games, and great with numbers, but she ain't as good as my guy. You should've known better. But you did get me a new toy. Two actually. You always were a ladies man."

Slick started struggling against his bonds, saying something quite loudly that was muffled by the gag. "What's that? You want to go in the ring yourself? Alright, we'll toss you in tomorrow." Now Slick was starting to shred the ropes; he had generated claws from his fingers and his arms were becoming scaly.

"Toss them in the car. Psycho, put some pants or something on the girl. Anyone touches either her or Psycha, and they'll have me to deal with."

He barked his orders as he disappeared into the darkness again. Someone from outside the ring of light came in and hit Slick on the head with something, the butt of a gun or a hard fist. He went down cold.

He was dragged off, followed by Psycha, who was starting to come to now that Psychosis was occupied. He had gotten a table cloth, and was fashioning it as a wrap around skirt on Doodle. She would've struggled, but she would rather have a skirt on more than trying to get a few shots in on him. Although when he hoisted her over his shoulder again, she did manage to kick him in the chin.

The boss was waiting outside, and was holding something small. Doodle realized with a sinking feeling that it was her bag. He waved it in front of her teasingly. "This is yours, isn't it? Well, you behave, and you can have it back." He tossed it into the waiting back seat of a car, and climbed in after it. "See you later," he grinned. She simply glared in his direction, before she saw the waiting van.

'Well, this isn't good.'


	4. Chapter 4

It's finally done! Yes, Chapter 4 is up, people! I can't tell you how tiring it was trying to type this when I had so many more fun past times. (Homework, cough cough, Yeah right. 9_9) Anyways, family stuff is going on this weekend so no promises bout the next chapter. I will try to sneak away, but I think my family has a little bloodhound in them. It's scary.

Anyways, enjoy, review, munch on cookies. See you in the next chapter! =3

* * *

Kaia's head was pounding as she rolled out of bed.

The cot squeaked as she moved, and she peered around blearily. She couldn't see much though, since it was dark, so she started feeling around. Starting with the cot, she was pleased to find clothes folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Feeling this took precedence over escape, she hastily got dressed.

Continuing to feel her way around the room, she found that it was very small and sparsely furnished. There was her bed, but it was more of a cot, and what felt like a desk or dresser, bolted to the wall. No windows, but she finally found a door. There was no doorknob on the inside.

Banging on it, she could hear it echo into a hallway. It sounded long, and when she pressed her ear to it, she heard what sounded like footsteps clunking down towards her room. Panicking, she flung herself back onto the bed, and closed her eyes just as the door opened.

"I know you're awake Doodle, or should I say, Kaia."

She rolled over, flinching as the light burned her eyes. She couldn't see who it was, but she didn't need to. His voice was too smug and chilling to belong to anyone else.

'What do you want, Psycho?'

He laughed, and grabbed her arm. "Not what I want, little girl. It's what my boss wants." He dragged her into the hallway, and past the guards at the end of it. Led upstairs, the door opened to what appeared to be a broom closet. He knocked on it twice, and the other door opened.

Glancing back, she saw the hallway was hidden behind a fake wall in the closet. But she wasn't able to look for long, because she was swept into a small parlor. The cigar chomping boss was lounging on a couch, affectionately petting a girl who appeared to have cat ears.

"Ah, Kaia, you're finally awake. I must apologize for Psychosis' actions, he was supposed to go gentle, but I guess the excitement of being in the ring again got to him. Come, sit down, sit down."

Shoved onto a couch by Psychosis, she didn't really have a choice but to accept. Glaring at him sourly, she snuck a peek at his girl; she was quite beautiful, with an air of feline grace about her. She was currently purring at the moment, repulsing Kaia. Mentally making a note to not end up as a toy or pet for this man, she folded her arms, waiting for him to continue.

"I hope you know, I've already taken care of your friends. Slick managed to make it through his first match, but he won't last tomorrow night. You can watch, if you promise to be good. Psycha is doing good too. She's taking to her predicament with a, shall we say, new mindset? Psychosis helped her along the way. And now all I'm stuck with is what to do with you."

Kaia felt the color leave her face when he mentioned Slick, and threw a nasty look at Psychosis, who simply gave her a smug grin. And when she was mentioned, her breath caught in her throat and her heartbeat quickened.

"I could put you in with Psycha, I'm sure she'd like the company, even if she doesn't remember you. But that would be such a waste of your talents. I could put you in rigged fights, although I'm not sure if they'd need to be rigged once we trained you proper like. What is it you do, exactly?"

She mimed writing with a marker, and he looked at her with a confused expression.

"You draw?"

Shaking her head, she held up her hand, while the ink under her skin slithered into words.

"I control pigments."

"Ah," he nodded, and handed her a pen. "And no funny business, or Pyscho here'll see to it you join your friend faster than Slick can lie his way out of an arrest."

She rolled her eyes and clicked the pen out. Touching the tip, she pulled the ink from the cartridge and began to manipulate it across her fingers in the air. She solidified it, flattened it into blades, then threw it onto the small coffee table between them, where it splattered. Twitching her fingers, it swirled into a picture, an almost exact likeness of Psycho, except it was cross-eyed and bucktoothed.

The boss chuckled at it, and she threw her own grin at Psycho, who merely scowled.

"I'll be damned. That's pretty good. Can you do other types, or just ink?"

"Anything with pigments."

"Anything, eh? How about paint then?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "What do you have in mind?"

* * *

The next day, she was stuck at an easel, with a whole array of paints at her disposal. The blank canvas in front of her seemed to swallow her if she stared at it too long. Dipping one finger in a color, she brought it to the canvas and let it spread across.

Pictures flowed in and out of the pigment streams, before she finally settled it into a background wash. Her other fingers quickly grabbed other colors, and she deftly splashed them across the canvas. In a few moments, she lifted her fingers from it, raising the paint to look like brush strokes.

Glancing at her reference picture, she added the final touch: a signature, exactly like the one in the picture. She motioned for the guard who was watching her, who picked up the painting and led her to the parlor once again.

And once again, the boss was sitting on a couch with his pet. He looked over the painting his lackey was holding, and reached out to touch it. A piece of paint flaked off onto his fingers, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Excellent. If it wasn't for age dating, I'd almost sell it to the museums for the real deal. And this only took you minutes, didn't it? Ah, mutants are a wonderful thing sometimes."

He waved for it to be taken away, but she grabbed it and swiped her hand across it, smearing the paint as if it were still wet. He glared at her, but held Pyscho back from stepping forward.

"Yes, Miss Kaia? Is there something you'd like to discuss?"

"I get a cut of all my sales."

Reading her palm, he laughed. "A cut? My dear, how about you get to stay cozy in my home, away from the ring, and keep making me these forgeries."

"I can forge other things, but I won't unless you give me what I want."

"There is no room for negotiation. Fix it now, or you won't get to say goodbye to Slick tonight."

She wanted to argue, but bit her lip and slid her hand back across the picture, fixing it. The guard left the picture leaning against the table, and grabbed her by the arm. Pulling her out of the parlor, she was led back to her easel, and locked in the room with a pile of blank canvases.

Setting one up on the easel, she dipped her finger back into the paint, and put it to the canvas. After a moment, she couldn't see what she was painting, because her eyes were blurring. She elongated the ink on her fingers, and slashed at the canvas. If she could, she would have been screaming.

Throwing the remains of the canvas at the door, she curled up in the corner and silently cried to herself. Paint was splashed all over the floor around her, and when Psycho poked his head in, he was attacked by a wave of color.

He stopped it, but just barely. Holding it back, he tried to find her mind and connect. He was hit with a wall of fury, and dug through her raging emotions. Finally baring her psyche, he dove into it and cut her mind off from the rest of her body.

The paint he was holding back fell to the ground, revealing her slumped in a corner. Nudging the remains of the canvas with his toe, he shook his head and picked her up. After dumping her in her original room, he went to tell his boss she wasn't going to cooperate.

* * *

She woke up on a couch, and tried to sit up but was shoved back down by the splitting pain that pulsed through her head. Her eyes roved over the room, and she spotted a balcony off to her left. There were chairs with people in them, and she recognized the halo of cigar smoke surrounding one of them. The girl twitching her tail next to him confirmed her suspicions.

Slowly, she swung her legs out and crawled off the couch. Using the couch to support her, she pulled herself up to a standing position. Taking one shaky step, then another, she made her way towards the balcony.

She had no ink with her, but that didn't matter. If she had to, she'd choke him with his own cigar. Just as she cleared the edge of the doorway, she was grabbed by her hair.

Feeling her scalp being pulled from her head, she flailed in an attempt to get away. Having no choice but to allow her captor to control her, she was dumped into a chair next to the boss. Her wrists were quickly handcuffed to the arms of the chair, and her hair was released.

"Ah, just in time, too. Slick is up next. You'll love this."

Looking out over the railing, she saw this club was different from the other one. It was more grungy, more concrete and rough edges. The fight square didn't look like it had been cleaned, or maybe it was just stained from massive amounts of blood being spilled on it.

"In case you haven't noticed, this ring has different rules. Also, you'll be fighting right after Slick. After that temper tantrum you threw this morning, you need to be taught a lesson. Don't worry though; you're too useful to kill. So far."

She threw a sharp look at him, eyes wide, before hearing the announcer begin the match. Straining against the cuffs, she tried to watch the match.

But it was hard.

Slick was way outmatched. His mutation wasn't for fighting; he may have had claws, but he was more of a stealth fighter than a brute strength fighter. His opponent was the crystalline mutant Psycha had told her about. Slick's claws had no effect on the crystal armor, and he had no armor of his own to protect against the crystal blades that were slicing him to ribbons.

He was pushed against the wall, chest heaving with the exertion. Blocking one blow, dodging another, he sent out a kick that landed squarely in his opponent's gut. He doubled over, giving Slick a long enough chance to glance up at the boss' viewing box.

His eyes locked with Kaia's, and he gave her a sad look. Mouthing sorry, he looked away while she struggled to get out of her restraints. The crystal mutant had gotten over his momentary distraction, and was now going full speed ahead against Slick.

Deflecting the punches as best he could, he couldn't block all of them. Slammed into a wall, he became dazed, and his opponent quickly grabbed him by the throat. Sliding him up the wall, Sick clawed against his arm, but to no avail. The arm not holding him drew back, and a sharp crystal began grow from the drawn fist. He gave one last look in her direction.

The fist blasted forward.

Blood burbled from the corner of Slick's mouth, and he gave her a wink and his mouth twitched as if he wanted to say something. Then the hand gripping his throat let go, and he crashed to the floor. She could see the blood pooling around him, and she felt her eyes burn with tears, before she turned to face her captor.

He was grinning, and blew a smoke ring at her. She simply looked away, and watched the club workers clean up Slick's body. That's when she felt someone unlocking the handcuffs binding her to the chair. Struggling against the arms that held her, she was brought downstairs and thrown into the ring.

Landing on her hands and knees, the floor still felt warm from his blood. She nearly gagged, but pulled it together enough to stand up and face her opponent. It was still the crystal guy, so she figured it was some sort king of the mountain type of fight.

Not having any ink on her made her feel naked. Glancing around for anything she could use, she took too long. Before she could even throw up an arm to block it, a foot came flying up and connected with her chin. She fell back, and the landing knocked the wind from her.

Grabbing at her clothes as she gasped for air, she managed to pull out enough pigments to slash at her attacker's calves. She aimed for his Achilles tendon, but he backpedaled away. Rolling to her knees, she got to her feet again and stood with her dye at the ready. Her pants were bleached from their lack of pigments, and they felt stiff against her legs.

Looking for a chink in his armor, she grinned when she found it. He could only have so much crystal on him, so he constantly shifted it, but always protected his vitals. Charging him, she fell to her knees and slid under him, before popping up facing his back. As expected, his crystals shifted to his back to prevent her from attacking, but she sent her needles to his front.

Growling at the sudden pain, he released shards from his armor. She felt one hit her shoulder, and a few others tore at her clothes. Stepping back to avoid them, he whirled around and managed to get a fist to connect with her cheek.

She fell back, hitting the wall, before sliding down. Looking out into the crowd, she noticed some sort of commotion was going on. It started in the back, and seemed to be going in different directions. That's when her opponent grabbed her by the scruff of her jacket.

Holding her up by her throat, she could feel his fingers tighten and saw him draw back his fist. It was the same move that he used to finish off Slick. She closed her eyes, concentrating. Just as she felt him start to swing, her eyes snapped open and she snarled as she lifted all the pigments out of all her clothes.

Tendrils of ink were sent flying, attacking the only part of him not shielded: his face. She sent a knee up to block his fist, and her kick sent it high above her head. Kicking out with both feet, she propelled him across the ring, and leaned against the wall to take a breather.

But there was no wall.

Falling back, she landed hard on her head, and heard something crack. Wincing at the sound, she couldn't quite feel the pain. Her vision started flickering, and she saw someone stop next to her. She was tired, and couldn't muster up the strength to defend herself.

The figure stooped, and his face was momentarily illuminated. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt her eyes start crying. Before she passed out, she mouthed one word.

_Mikhail._

He picked her up, and she could feel him running beneath her. He held her close, and she blacked out in his arms.

* * *

For those of you who don't remember, or just kind of skim through, Mikhail is her brother.


End file.
